Intimate Details
by piscespen
Summary: Now that the Doctor and Donna are an official couple, the Doctor wants to open up to her, but is Donna ready to hear all the intimate details of a Time-Lord's life?


There are two suns in the sky. One is huge and golden, sitting on the periphery of her vision like a chariot slowly making it's way across the horizon. The other is small and inexplicably lavender, sitting at a fixed point high in the sky above them. It never sets, the Doctor tells her. The combined effect is like an impressionist canvas, painting the sky in the soft pastel colours of perpetual sunset.

Donna shades her eyes with her hand for a moment before slipping on a pair of chunky sunglasses. She breathes the heady salty air blowing in from the azure ocean, nestled against the horizon like a hazy mirror. Its gentle waves lap lazily at the shore.

She'd have thought it would be too hot, what with two suns and all, but is pleasantly surprised to find the air is warm and comfortable against her skin. She closes her eyes, letting the comfortable warmth suffuse her body, as the Doctor takes the beach blanket from her and unfurls it over the glittering white sand at their feet.

"There we are," he says, grinning broadly, "a day at the beach as promised. No detours."

"Well, unless you count the entire past year of course," Donna says wryly, "then it's one giant detour really."

"I'd prefer not to actually," he says, his voice growing somewhat strained.

Donna's smile warms as she takes his hand in hers. "This looks like a good spot," she says, simply.

"Yeah," he agrees, stamping the base of the giant beach umbrella deep into the sand behind them before opening the canopy.

Donna unfolds the beach chairs on the blanket and weighs down the other end with the picnic basket before taking a seat. She removes her sandals, placing them in her wicker tote along with the sunscreen and the well-worn book she bought from the used book sellers the last time they'd visited Chiswick.

The Doctor adjusts the angle of the umbrella, then takes a seat beside her, sinking deep into the cushions of his beach chair with a sigh of contentment. His pale, skinny legs are stretched out before him from a pair of baggy blue and red striped swim trunks.

"Is this a private beach?" Donna asks, her eyes straying to the few people besides themselves sporadically camped along the lapping shores.

"Not exactly, no," the Doctor says, his brown eyes hidden behind the polarised lenses of his eyeglasses, "it's generally just the locals who come out this late in the season though. Tourists tend to stay away because of the giant yabbie problem."

"Giant... yabbie... problem?" Donna asks, very slowly.

"Local crustacean," the Doctor says mildly. He plucks the bottle of sunscreen from her tote and begins to spread a thin layer of lotion along his bare arms where they protrude from the sleeves of his tee shirt, "looks like a sort of squat lobster with big googly eyes."

Donna blinks. "Are you telling me that out of _all_ the beaches in the entire universe we could have visited, you decided to bring us to the one that's infested with giant lobsters?!"

"Well, it isn't as if they're _man-eating_ lobsters, or anything," he says, a bit defensively.

"-and just how giant is giant exactly?"

"Dunno," the Doctor says, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "small…_Volkswagen_... maybe?"

"Right," Donna says, springing to her feet and quickly gathering her tote and sandals, "I'm leaving."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," the Doctor cries, abruptly standing and taking off after her as she turns on her heel and begins plodding barefoot back down the beach, "Donna!"

"What, giant wasps weren't enough for you?" she calls back over her shoulder.

"Stop," he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her back around towards the azure horizon. "You can't find a view like _that_ on just any beach in the universe," he says.

Donna sighs, gazing at the painted sky touching the deep blue water before them. Pastel clouds drift across the sky, changing colours as she watches.

"It _is_ beautiful," she says at last.

"Course' it is," the Doctor says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, "and you know, even the beaches on _Earth_ have a jellyfish season. It isn't as if you do much swimming anyway. As long as we stay out of the water, we'll be fine."

"So they never come out of the water then?" Donna asks somewhat doubtfully.

"No never," the Doctor says firmly. "Well, hardly ever, and then only at night… usually."

Donna rolls her eyes. "So help me Spaceman if I have even one nightmare about giant space lobsters tonight, you're sleeping on the couch for a week."

"Deal," the Doctor says, wryly, "just so long as it's only the sleeping bits."

Donna's eyes narrow slightly as he leads her back to the blanket, "sit," he says, taking the tote and sandals from her hands and placing them firmly back onto it.

"-and it isn't as if I don't swim at all you know," she grumbles, flopping into the beach chair next to him, "I told you I went snorkelling that one Christmas. You just don't appreciate the havoc salt water wreaks with my hair."

"Well I wasn't planning on throwing you into the deep end, if that's what you're worried about," the Doctor says mildly. "Unless of course you're into that sort of thing," he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively over his glasses.

"Oh get off you yabbie," Donna says fondly, pushing him away.

The Doctor grins, watching her for a moment as she retrieves a dog eared novel from her tote and settles down to read it.

"_In the Highlander's Bed_" he murmurs, squinting at the cover, "how can you read that?"

Donna shrugs. "It's what the beach is for," she says, "trashy romance novels and big floppy hats you wouldn't be caught dead in anywhere else."

"I love the hat," he says, "actually, I love the entire ensemble," he continues, his eyes lingering on her slinky black one piece, "very Rita Hayworth."

"I'm trying to read," she says, trying to sound annoyed, but secretly pleased by the comment.

The Doctor sighs falling back against the cushions of his chair like a rebuffed teenager. He fidgets for a moment, idly burying his toes in the sand, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, squinting at some imagined speck on his glasses and wiping them on the edge of his swim trunks while humming tunelessly to himself.

"You're complete rubbish at this relaxing thing you know," Donna says finally, dropping the novel into her lap with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh sorry," he says, the model of innocence, "was I bothering you?"

Donna frowns at him. "Oh, not at all," she says, "what ever gave you that idea?"

"Sorry," he says again, "I guess I just thought you'd want to talk, that's all."

"Talk about what?"

"I dunno," he says with a shrug, "the intimate details of your life, or maybe mine?"

"You what?"

"Well, _you're_ the one who's always saying I talk all the time and never say anything," he says, "but I mean, we're in a relationship now, so I just thought-"

"Oh God," Donna says, grimacing slightly, "you're not gonna tell me about your first time now are you?"

"What? No!"

"-because I have absolutely no desire to hear about the awkward blotchy sex you had in the back of your dad's space-chevy, or whatever-"

"Oi!" he cries, "I never… and anyway, I only meant-"

"-and I really don't need you erupting like some giant time bending volcano, spewing nine hundred years of crazy on me all at once, you know," she says, "you can just keep _those_ intimate details to yourself, thanks."

"Donna, I wouldn't… " his eyes narrow slightly, "and you're… you're just making fun of me now aren't you."

It isn't a question.

Donna grins, suddenly. "Little bit, yeah," she says.

"Fine," he says, with a vague wave of his hand, "read your book." He settles back against the seat cushions in a huff, staring moodily at the azure sea, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

"I appreciate the offer you know," Donna says softly, gently brushing his cheek with the backs of her fingers, "but I want you to know that I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to feel obligated to share anything with me that you're not ready to, just because we're in a relationship now. We can just… We can just see how it goes."

"That goes for you too you know," he says, breaking into a smile.

Donna returns it. "I know," she says softly.

He takes her hand in his. "Come on," he says, "let's go for a walk."

"To share some intimate details?" Donna asks, rising to her feet.

The Doctor's smile warms, "Let's just see how it goes," he says, leading them down to the lapping shore.

"Right," she says, her hand wrapped firmly in his, "just so long as it doesn't involve giant lobsters."

The Doctor grins. "Deal," he says.

~END~


End file.
